


Faint Memories and Old Bookmarks

by punsparce



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, But they try to help Byleth, Byleth is sad, OC is also sad, i wrote this from 1-2 am because i had a Thought, no editing i die like the b/tch i am, takes place 100 years after the academy era of the game, undertones of depression. trauma. Self destructive thoughts. Suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:29:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28982634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punsparce/pseuds/punsparce
Summary: A short character sheet about Momus
Relationships: Oc x Byleth, but Momus is a minor and this is all Platonic, momus x byleth





	1. Johannes Momus Gautier: Character Info

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short character sheet about Momus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may add to this in the future

**Name** : Johannes Momus Gautier (usually goes by Momus)

 **Age** : 17

 **Pronouns and sexuality** : They/Them; Ace/Aro _(despite not feeling romantic attraction, they still desire a romantic relationship due to having read many romance stories which they adore)_

 **Crest** : Crest of Gautier _(Minor)_

 **House** : Blue Lions

 **Class** : Dark Mage

 **Appearance** : (will redo later - just a placeholder sketch of sorts for now)

**Proficiency**

****

**Personality** : 

Momus is an adaptive person, able to communicate to people quickly. Having grown up in a noble household, they began to adapt their attitude to match the air of those around them. However, this means they often struggle to form lasting ties as an equal, often doing better as a leader or helper. When comfortable enough, they begin to reveal a good sense of humor and strong interest with history. Overall, they are a friendly person, though they often forget to be around people and struggle with forging lasting or deep relationships, even just platonic ones. They have a tendency to drift around the edges of multiple social groups, getting along with most but belonging with few. Despite that, they come off as fairly cheerful albeit quiet. 

**Character History:**

_Quick summary - Ever since the chaos that ensued around their ancestors, the Gautier house no longer had more than one child between 2 people at a time. Momus grew up with only their parents around and, with the large, cold expanse of land in Faerghus, they had no friends. Their parents often tried to have them socialize with the children of other nobles, but ultimately to no avail. They spent most of their childhood reading more about any and every topic that was written about in book within their reach. While they were encouraged to learn to fight so they could be a soldier, they were more captivated by art and history. Their parents continued to teach them more about fighting since, with their social presence, they were unlikely to marry and pass on the crest to a child willingly. Finally, the family found they had a knack for magic, and they believed it was enough that they may at least be able to become a well rounded soldier for the Church._

Throughout their childhood and young teen years, Momus tried their best to be a good child for their parents. Due to family history, it was considered bad luck to have more than one child. But Momus was short, awkward, and performed poorly in just about any and all social settings. It wasn't entirely their fault. Faerghus was so expansive and cold few people came around and they never spent enough time with the other noble children to grow a friendship that lasted beyond vague comfort of familiarity when their parents needed to speak together. During their childhood, they became aware that their parents had wanted another child. When they asked, their parents waved away the question with jokes that they had Momus so early that they grew up with them, and, if they were to have any other child, they'd never be able to love them as much as they loved Momus. 

As they struggled with creating an admirable social presence, they turned instead to books and art. They devoted their time to reading about Fodlan, Faerghus, their family, and the church. Even if their parents, alarmed by the family's history, tried to hide their disappointment with Momus' lack of devotion to creating a social presence that could allow them to be easily wed and pass on their crest, Momus always had a sense that they lacked what their parents wanted. When they entered their teen years, Momus buried themself in books about various tactics to learn to fight so they could devote their abilities, and crest, to the church one day. Their only saving grace seemed to be a penchant for magic, both through faith and reason. 

After they became a teenager, their parents once again tried to make arrangements with other nobles to test if an arranged marriage would fit. However, it became clear that no match was a comfortable fit with any family. As they were sent to Garreg Mach, they tried to focus their mind on how to best serve the Church and, by extension, please their parents. If only they could pass their crest onto someone more worthy might they feel more at peace with their life decisions.

**Extras**

Favorite Shared Meals

  * Sweet Bun Trio
  * Peach Sorbet
  * Fish and Bean Soup
  * Super-Spicy Fish Dango
  * Gautier Cheese Gratin



Favorite Gifts

  * Monarch Studies Book
  * History of Fodlan
  * Book of Crest Designs
  * Landscape Painting



Liked Gifts

  * Stylish Hair Clip
  * Smoked Meat
  * Tasty Baked Treat



Disliked Gifts

  * Floral Adornment _(Allergic to flowers)_
  * Hunting Dagger _(Hates hunting/killing)_
  * Whetstone _(Bad with weapons)_
  * Book of Sheet Music _(Can't read/understand sheet music)_



Tea Leaves

  * Mint Tea
  * Lavender Blend



Lost Items

  * Worn down hair tie
  * Heavily annotated book
  * Old lens cleaning rag



Quotes

  * First Kill: _“It had to be done...they would say the same thing if the roles were reversed, right…?”_
  * Critical Hit: _“You will not know mercy.” “I must not fail!” “Steel yourself!” “Ending this now.”_
  * Lost Items: _“Here I thought I'd searched everywhere for that. Thank you for returning it to me.”_ or _“I don't recognize that. I wish you luck in finding its owner.”_
  * Favorite Gifts: _“Oh my! May I keep this?”_
  * Liked Gifts: _“Thank you for the gift.”_
  * Disliked Gifts: _“Oh...you shouldn't have, Professor.”_
  * Bad Instruction: _“Even with all the knowledge you gave me, I still failed…”_
  * Consoled: _“Please don't worry. I can get it next time.”_
  * Critiqued (preferred): _“Oh, I see! Thank you for clarifying.”_
  * Moving on **full health** : _“My chance has arrived.”_
  * Moving on **medium health** : _“Moving wisely...”_
  * Moving on **low health** : _“So this is my punishment…”_




	2. Immortality is Being Known

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth comes across a student in the Goddess Tower and they have some thoughts about immortality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this AU and the lore belongs to a friend and it's not my own. Only the writing and OC are mine, but the AU concept belongs to a friend named iko

"Arch Bishop! I didn't expect to see you here," Momus chuckled warmly as they turned to see Byleth. Had it not been for the soft clicking of his boots, they may not have known he'd entered the tower.  
"Why aren't you at the dance?" Byleth asked in the firm yet innocently curious tone only he seemed to possess. The mage chewed their nails softly and bowed their head respectfully as they answered. How could a noble have forgotten to show respect to the arch bishop? Especially a noble aiming to serve the church.  
"I'm not used to dances, Arch Bishop."  
Byleth's expression, though it remained fairly neutral and stiff as usual, softened at the eyes. He never wanted to see a student bow to him before. Why would the changes of time demand that they must?  
"You can call me Professor," Byleth said, watching as Momus lifted their head in minor confusion. "And you don't have to bow when you speak to me."  
"Oh, of course...Professor."  
For a while, both were silent. Momus fiddled with their glasses for a moment. Then they paused for a beat and continued, cleaning the lens against their uniform. Finally, they found the words they had been searching for ever since Byleth asked his question.  
"Why did you come to the Goddess Tower, Professor?" Momus finally gathered enough courage, enough disobedience to the rules they taught themselves, in order to look Byleth in the eye. For a moment, the gentle fingertips of time rewound as the pang of a distant memory ran through the edges of the arch bishop's mind. The quiet disobedience of a noble through interacting casually, the dull brown eyes that almost gleamed black in the low light. Gautier. Gautier...the name brought an ache to his mind.  
"Professor?"  
"My apologies. I was lost in thought...," Byleth said. "I suppose I came to ensure all students were doing well. That includes you."  
"I see," Momus mused. Their fingertips worked over the frayed pages of their book. Why they brought it, they no longer knew. It was too dark to read and they didn't want to use any magic to create a light so they could see the words. "I'm sorry if I brought you any worry. I'm simply worn out from all the excitement of the ball, Professor."  
"It's always good to have some rest."  
Momus nodded and continued to run their fingers over the edges of the page.  
"I suppose I just feel out of place. Even as a noble, I never learned to dance much. The dances hosted by my house...well my parents would often send me to my room after I ate my fill. I've read of dances but I can't remember a time I attempted to put my knowledge into practice."  
"I know what you mean," Byleth said simply. He did, of course. But there was no need to explain. Momus was already doing that for both of them.  
"Yes...books are nice, of course...but much of what I read about has always felt so outlandish. I wish to dance and I understand most waltzes are done with a 3/4 count, but I don't know which beat to start on or how to even listen for the first beat."  
"I don't fully know how to dance either. I also wished to learn for some time."  
"It would be lovely if such skills could come easily. Speaking of, the Goddess Tower apparently has rumors and legends around it. I've read books about them many times..."  
"Is that so?"  
"Yes. According to the legends, if two people make a wish here, the Goddess will make it come true. I'm not entirely sure what I'd wish for if I'm being truly honest. I would say I'd wish for someone to make a wish with, though I wouldn't want to waste the Goddess's time with such a meaningless thing."  
"It's not meaningless."  
Momus made a small hum at the back of their throat before they cleared it away with a smile. The almost familiar smile of an overly confident nobel, a Gautier that had somehow forged similar warmth despite the cold bite of Faerghus air.  
"What would you wish for Professor?"  
"I'm...not entirely sure either."  
It had partially been a lie. There were many things he could wish for. He could wish for Rhea's return, for his memories to clear past that fog of last names and gentle smiles and laughs and eyes and happiness and talent from faces he couldn't remember yet still stunned him and danced as phantoms in his dreams.  
"Well...I suppose a good wish is not to be forgotten. After all, things which are truly immortal are things that last as long as humans," Momus said. "And if you can't last as long as a human, if you live within their memory, you're still living. There are so many things to do in life...and I don't believe mine will be long enough to do all I want to do. So I hope I won't be forgotten. And I hope the same for you, Professor."  
A full smile crossed Momus's face and in the dark tower, they practically glowed with the warmth of their small realization. In response, a rare smile gently tugged the edges of Byleth's lips as they remembered, for the millionth time, why they had come to love their job at the Officer Academy.  
"Ah, that's just like you. It's a wise wish."  
"Thank you, Professor. I suppose if I don't want to be forgotten, it's best I let myself be known, isn't it? Though...maybe I ought to review the chapter on waltzes one last time before we do..." Momus moved towards the window of the tower, trying to catch enough moonlight to see the words.  
"I can dance with you first. We can learn together," Byleth offered.  
"Oh, truly?" Momus asked, perking up. It was, of course, the teachers at the Officer Academy that finally helped them find a weapon they could use. Perhaps Byleth could finally help them learn to dance.  
"Of course."  
"Well, I suppose I don't need this book for that...but...maybe I can give it to you. As a thank you for tonight. And so you won't forget me. That way, our wish will come true and the goddess won't have to worry about answering it herself."  
Byleth nodded and accepted the book from the student, another smile tugging at his lips.  
"And I never forget someone I give a book to. So when you remember me, I'll remember you, Professor."  
Another warm grin spread across the mage's face before they chuckled and began to leave the tower.


	3. How does one live if they can't die?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth comes across Momus, this time in the cemetery. The two wanderers ask and try to answer some hard questions in the cold silence of the ethereal moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: mention of death/cemeteries, numbness, Byleth angst, some parts of Momus' conversation with Byleth has suicidal, self destructive, depressed, and/or trauma related undertones

The cold month of the Ethereal Moon settled over the monastery once more. Much like the clockwork that tormented him day in and day out, the arch bishop’s grief settled in with the chill running through his bones. With the month coming to a close, it was almost over, thankfully. The archbishop loathed the feeling. It had no direction or purpose to it, aside from being something that tugged him out of the audience chamber into the Captain’s Quarters. There was a reason the room must call to him, yet that alone couldn't tell the archbishop why it calls him. It had been remodeled so many times for the different captains over the 100 years that he's been archbishop that the room’s significance hardly remained a blur in his mind, barely even a smudge. 

Past the windows and dull, dusty shelves of the room, which he swears changed yet again in just the past year alone, he noticed a student at the edge of the graveyard. That was another place that called Byleth during this time, though the tombstones had been so weathered and worn down that the names could no longer be read. He couldn't even make out a date.  
Of course, the classrooms called him as well, even when he had other duties to attend to. It constantly nudged and prodded at the back of his mind. Much like his hunger, he couldn't concentrate until it was satiated. Even Seteth was lenient when it came to this. But did the advisor need to look at Byleth with such pity during these moments? There was always understanding behind the pity, but the understanding could never take control of his expression. It was always in the background of his expression, and it haunted Byleth. It seemed as if 100 years made many things haunt him. 

Once again, the hunger was insatiable and the archbishop made his way down to the first floor and walked towards the graveyard. As he drew closer, he realized it was none other than the student he had visited in the Goddess Tower during the ball just a few days ago. They were seated on the low wall of the graveyard, shivering with their glasses sliding down their face as they looked down at their book. The book remained closed, though they continued to stare at its worn down, barely discernible cover.  
“Momus,” Byleth said, quickly catching the bookworm’s attention. “What brings you to the cemetery?”  
“I was reading a book about it and found I couldn't understand the words. I came here thinking it'd help me understand,” Momus said simply, holding up the book as they spoke. “Are you checking on students again, Professor?”  
“I suppose you could say that. Did you finish the book already?” 

As Byleth asked his question, he already realized his answer. The book was shut and the bookmark was barely placed past the first few pages. Knowing the little he knew of Momus from his short visits to the classroom, they were a fast and passionate reader that was very precise about their bookmarks. The edges were always clean and smooth, as if newly purchased, and never out of place when in or out of a book. Momus’ fingers pressed against the portion that stuck out from the book, creasing it against the firm tops of the pages. Occasionally their fingernails dug into the very corners of the bookmark, not only creasing it but beginning to sever small portions of it. In all his time at the classroom, he had never seen them ruining their bookmarks in such a way.  
“Well not quite Professor. You see, once I understood it, I no longer wanted to read it.”  
Byleth wasn't sure what possessed him to do it, but he held his hand out for the book and Momus placed it in his palm.  
“It's a sad book, Professor. You don't seem like the type of person to enjoy sad things.”  
“Yes...yes, I suppose I really don't enjoy sad things,” Byleth said. The word fell heavily from his tongue. Sad. What he felt wasn't sadness. Sadness lasted a moment, a passing beat of disappointment from a break up or failed test or spilled ink across a student’s assignment. What he felt had lasted longer than he could remember. It only reared its head the most during this month. Even so, Momus’ words rang true in some tones, as they often did. 

“What do you enjoy, Professor?”  
“Teaching,” Byleth said, in the same simple tone Momus had used. For a while, they remained in silence together as Byleth thumbed through the pages. The words were so clear, the pages so crisp. Yet the tombstone behind him was worn down, weathered past recognition of shape or inscription. This time, Byleth broke the silence.  
“Why do you like to read?”  
“I suppose it's in the same category as my wish...though I hope I can change that wish now.”  
“And why’s that?” Byleth asked, a frown tugging at his lips. It was such a familiarly unusual expression for the archbishop to feel cross his face.  
“Well...I'm not so sure I'd want to be immortal,” Momus sighed. “If I can't die, how can I live? And if I cannot be forgotten, then what's the value of my memory?”  
A painful gnawing began to make its way to the archbishop’s heart. How could he, in his 100 years of dullness and allowing history’s hurricane to whip around him, the sheltered eye of it all, have answers to this? How could he respond when the person that spent their life consuming knowledge of that history couldn't? For a moment in the Goddess Tower, he thought there might be some beauty to his suffering, some final end product of him immortalizing those he loved. Now they told him there was no purpose. There was no beauty. It was only cold, empty, and directionless. 

“Professor? Are you lost in thought again?” Momus, although keeping a casual tone, looked to Byleth with concern. It wasn't the same pity as Seteth, nor the same understanding. It was something similar yet different altogether. Maybe it was understanding and sadness, no, grief.  
“Yes...yes I was. So why do you believe so many people pursue immortality? In books I mean.”  
Momus took off their glasses as they mused and began to clean them again, since the warm breath against their scarf had started to make the lens fog over.  
“Well…,” Momus began slowly, “I suppose it's because time is such a relative concept. We say we want to live forever when we perhaps just want one or two additional lifetimes at the most. We want to see all of our goals through to completion and one lifetime just isn't enough for that in most cases. Plus, we get to see what comes of growth that may have started in our lifetime. But…”  
Momus trailed off and looked at the book in Byleth’s hand. 

Byleth began to stare at the book again as well. A dull, almost painful curiosity, the kind that might kill Byleth, began to swallow him. The hunger growled and clawed until he opened the book and read the first sentence.  
He couldn't read anymore. Somehow the words blurred together, though he didn't have any glasses to fog over the way Momus did and he knew the words couldn't have been enchanted in some way. He understood every word of that first sentence. Somehow, he also understood that every other sentence in that book would only confirm the painful statement, and he handed the book to Momus. Momus set it beside themselves on the wall and patted the other area next to them, inviting the archbishop to sit.  
“Rest is good,” Momus said, parroting what Byleth had said to them only a few days before. “You told me that at the ball. Rest your feet, Professor.”

Not having it in himself to reject an invitation, especially not one from a student, the archbishop sat beside the budding mage and stared at the clouds.  
“Rest is good,” Byleth reaffirmed.  
“If death is a permanent rest, do you believe life is a permanent restlessness?” Momus asked quietly. “It feels like nothing in it ever stops.”  
“It actually stops quite a lot,” Byleth said, returning to the simple tone from before. When they turned to see Byleth’s expression, Momus saw nothing and everything in the archbishop’s eyes. It was like a mold of every color, all hues melting down to become grey. It was somewhere in between, a small halt and rush in emotions that were neither here nor there. “You'd be surprised how much it stops, Momus. Perhaps I can write you a book about it someday.”  
But, as the words once again fell from his mouth, they were heavy, heavier than sad. Stopping wasn't something he wanted to immortalize.  
“I don't think I'd be able to read it, Professor. I don't think I'd like to find that you wrote it either. The idea of moving and stopping or stopping and moving seems so painful.”

Momus’ hand traced over the cover of the book. Even so, they still glanced at Byleth, who was still looking at the sky.  
“It is,” Byleth said. “But with pain comes rest. Rest is good.”  
“Do you ever get to rest, Professor?”  
For a moment it seemed to be a hypothetical question. There were always slow days at the Audience Chamber and small lulls in the activity of the Knights of Seiros. Of course he rested. But, in the short beat it took for Byleth to open his mouth and bring ease to the student’s mind, uncertainty began to dance around his own. If death was rest, would he ever be allowed to rest? Perhaps he'd remain in a painful cycle of remembering and forgetting. Perhaps a day would come when he no longer recognized the Gautier name, for Momus or one of the people Byleth first helped teach. An ache grew in Byleth’s chest and moved into his throat and head, further frying his thoughts and destroying the response he had ready only moments ago. 

This time, Momus didn't stop Byleth or try to snap him out of his thoughts. They didn't interrupt the flow of the thoughts and held the book once again. Byleth opened his mouth for a moment, and Momus’ eyes immediately shifted to look at the Professor before he made a noise at the back of his throat and closed his mouth once more. Momus had seemed so cheerful most days, yet now all Byleth felt near them was grief. In a strange sense, it was an improvement. There was a direction and he could at least pinpoint some small reasons, a few stepping stones to why he felt it so strongly. It was that book, that student’s gentle stare, and the questions that made Byleth realize how lost and empty he truly was. Of course, he remained grateful for the questions. From his days of teaching, the one thing he could remember was the importance of challenging someone to ask or answer hard questions. He never imagined a student would so suddenly turn to tides on him, much less while he was the archbishop. 

Finally, the archbishop managed to respond.  
“Maybe. Sometimes I rest and sometimes I don't. Now, for example, I am able to rest,” Byleth said. The hurricane in his eyes cleared for a moment, and Momus noticed that his eyes held the first sentence of the book. It was something gentle, yet it was still the aftermath of the storm and likely the calm before a new one. “I think I've been able to rest a little bit in each of our conversations.”  
“I'm glad Professor. I'm always here to talk if you need to rest,” Momus said. They gently passed the book to Byleth, and, without looking, the archbishop accepted it. He traced the now creased bookmark as his mind ran through Momus’ offer and tried to blow away some of the fog. Somehow, being told to lean on his students during the Ethereal Moon seemed familiar. It didn't tug him painfully the way the Captain’s Quarters or cemetery did. It was a gentle hand reaching out to him, asking him to come along and explore the indiscernible fog of his memories.  
“Thank you, Momus,” Byleth said, finally taking the hand.


End file.
